Mercifully, the lift slowed to a halt on Level C, and Matt slid through the opening doors without responding. He walked down the corridor with Valentin flying easily at his side, and pushed open the double doors of the infirmary, which had been hurriedly emptied to make way for the launch of PROMETHEUS; testing of the cure had been suspended in the aftermath of Dracula’s attack on Carcassonne, and those civilians who had been recovering inside the long white room had been moved up to empty quarters on Level B.

The infirmary was now crammed full of beds, eighteen along each wall, each enclosed by a white privacy curtain; the turn could be a horrible, undignified experience, even with abundant blood and medical professionals on hand. The plan was to turn the first thirty-six Operators whose names had been selected at random, then the next thirty-six, and so on until it was done. The projection was that it would take three and a half days, although there were very few certainties where the mechanics of vampirism were concerned.

At the back of the room stood a sombre line of men and women. Paul Turner was at its centre, with two of the Loop’s medical staff on either side of him. To one side stood six Operators from the Security Division; they eyed Valentin with clear disdain as Matt led the vampire down the long room and stopped in front of the Director, who nodded.

“So,” said Valentin, grinning widely. “Where do you want me?”

Matt watched with growing unease as Operators, a large number of whom he recognised, filed into the infirmary.

At the front of the queue was Angela Darcy, her face pale and determined. Five or six places behind her was Dominique Saint-Jacques, and near the back was Lizzy Ellison, whom Matt had never actually spoken to but felt like he knew from Jamie’s many stories about her. All of a sudden, PROMETHEUS felt very real; something that had started out as a distant hypothetical was about to actually happen, and the thought churned his stomach, particularly if he glanced at the expression of hungry delight on Valentin’s face.

Near the doors of the infirmary, one of the doctors was checking names off a list. When she was finished, she made her way down to the front of the room and spoke to Paul Turner in a low voice.

“Thirty-four, sir,” she said. “Lester and McCluskey aren’t here.”

Turner nodded, then turned to the Security Operators. “Have them found.”

The squad leader nodded, pulled his radio from his belt, and spoke rapidly into it.

“This is actually happening, then?” asked one of the queuing Operators. He stepped out of line and stared down the infirmary, his eyes narrow with anger. “It’s not a joke? You actually expect me to let that piece of shit bite me?”

“Ouch,” said Valentin, a smile on his narrow face. “That hurts my feelings.”

“Your orders were clear, Lieutenant,” said Turner, ignoring the vampire. “Get back in line and be quiet.”

The Operator stepped forward, his face flushing red with fury. “You can’t make me,” he said. “This is bullshit. It’s inhuman.”

“Your concerns have been noted,” said Turner. “Now get back into line. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“My concerns have been noted?” said the Operator. “Have they really? That’s great. That’s absolutely bloody fantastic. Why do I have to let him bite me, when everyone knows they turned the Broadmoor patients with injections? Why can’t you at least do that?”

“That is not an option at this time,” said Turner, his voice full of ice.

“Why not?” demanded the Operator, and pointed at Valentin. “Because he wouldn’t agree to it? Because he wants to bite people and you’re just going to let him?”

Valentin’s smile widened into a grin as Turner visibly fought to control his temper. “You have two choices, Lieutenant,” said the Director. “You can follow the order in hand, or you can go to the cells. Which is it going to be?”

Matt stared, his heart pounding. PROMETHEUS hadn’t even started, and already it was going wrong.

The red-faced Operator walked slowly towards the Director, every pair of eyes in the room on him as he moved, and put his arms out before him, his wrists together.

“I’ll take the cells,” he said. “Better that than this. Much better.”

“Fine,” said Turner. “Have it your way.”

He looked over at the Security squad, and nodded. Two of them stepped forward and zip-tied the Operator’s wrists, then led him silently towards the infirmary doors. Matt watched them go, then looked at the remainder of the line, wondering who was going to be the next to protest; if they all made the same decision as their colleague, PROMETHEUS was going to be dead in the water.

“Anyone else?” shouted Turner, causing a number of the queuing Operators to jump. “Anyone else unable to follow a simple order? Before you make your decision, I would urge you to think about why this is happening. Do you think it’s because we like putting you through something unpleasant? Or because we believe it gives us our best chance, perhaps our only chance, of defeating Dracula? I understand that it’s unusual, that nothing like this has been done in the history of the Department, but you all know that we now have a working cure for vampirism, and your orders make it perfectly clear that PROMETHEUS is a temporary measure. But they are still orders, and I expect you to follow them. So raise your hand, right now, if you’re unwilling to do so.”

The colour had drained from a number of Operators’ faces, but nobody moved, and Matt breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” said Turner, and turned towards him. “Carry on, Lieutenant Browning.”

Matt nodded, and looked at Valentin.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied the vampire. “I’m positively salivating with anticipation.”

Matt grimaced. “All right then,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

Angela Darcy stepped forward, her eyes slightly narrowed. Matt, who had spent his first months at the Loop in the grip of an overpowering crush on the deadly former spy, swallowed hard and forced a small smile.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

“Open your collar, please,” said Valentin. “And turn your head to one side.”

Angela fixed him with a disgusted stare, then unfastened the collar of her uniform, lowered its zip past her collarbones, and tilted her head. There was no fear on her face as the vampire stepped towards her, just a clear desire for this to be over and done with as quickly as possible.

Valentin took hold of her waist with one hand, and placed the other against her cheek. Angela shuddered, but stayed still as the vampire leant slowly forward, his eyes smouldering red, and buried his face in her neck. Her eyes flew wide, and Matt saw her fists clench as an awful sucking sound filled the room; he stared, appalled by the reality unfolding before him, until out of the corner of his eye he saw the Director shoot him a quizzical look, and remembered himself.

“That’s enough,” he said.

Valentin didn’t move. Over the vampire’s shoulder, Angela met his eyes.

“That’s enough, Valentin,” Matt said, his voice rising, and grabbed the vampire’s shoulder.

Valentin turned on him, his face a monstrous vision, and Matt felt his stomach turn to water. The vampire’s fangs were huge and gleaming, his mouth smeared with blood and twisted into a snarl, his eyes roaring with swirling crimson-black as Matt stared into them, frozen solid with terror. Then the glowing fire died, as suddenly as if a switch had been flipped inside the vampire’s head.

“I’m sorry,” said Valentin, his voice low, and released his grip on the Security Officer. Angela’s hand flew to her neck, but she didn’t back away; she stared at the vampire with hatred twisting her face.

“I’m sorry,” repeated Valentin. “It has been a long time since I tasted human blood. Especially human blood as sweet as that.”